Almost As Cool As Batman
by FishGuts And LabRat
Summary: In which guardian angels age with their charges. AU, Wee!chesters, Child!Castiel.
1. Chapter One

**A/N: Basically, fluff that I write to make myself feel better when the show abuses the characters too badly. This isn't entirely plotless, but it'll have a lot of random, happy and light chapters. Sorry if I update too quickly or too late. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

The first time that John hears of his son's imaginary friend is just over a year after Mary's death. Maybe he'd have heard of him even sooner, if he had been listening more closely.

They're at yet another crappy motel room, and Sammy is playing with some toy cars under the table (not even Dean could get him to eat much that particular morning) while John's older son scarfs down a banana.

"Cas says bananas're good for ya," Dean says suddenly, looking up at his father and waving the half eaten fruit in the air. "He says they gots potatoes in 'em. Daddy, how do potatoes go inside bananas?"

John frowns, alarmed. "Who's Cas?"

"He's my bestest friend and really, really cool. Almost as cool as Batman. He's invisible when anyone 'xcept me's looking. How do potatoes go inside bananas?"

Oh, an invisible friend, then, John thinks with relief. Children are supposed to go through that stage. "I think you mean potassium, son."  
"Oh. I'll tell Cas that. He can be real silly sometimes."

That night he hears his son voice behind him, explaining the difference between potatoes and "tassie 'em" to someone who is apparently standing right there.

"So potatoes are french fries, but 'tassie 'em is like medicine and they're what's good-"  
John turns around tiredly and looks at Dean, who has stopped talking and is now looking at his dad with accusation.

"See now? You've made him imaginary again."

John chuckles and turns away again, but Dean doesn't resume his explanations.


	2. Chapter Two

As John observes later, Dean's "invisible" friend (for his son insisted that Cas was real when no one was looking) has a positive effect on the older Winchester boy. There are times when Dean will wake up in the middle of the night, screaming for his mother, but now a lot of times he calms down and goes back to sleep even before John gets there.

"It's okay, Daddy," His son tells him once when John comes to calm him down. "Cas put out the fire and he said it ain't real one bit."  
Unconsciously, John had almost comes to rely on Cas to cheer Dean up sometimes, the same way as he relies to Dean to care for Sam. So it is only natural for him to ask some questions about him.

"He's got black hair very blue eyes and he talks funny and he says he is older than me but I don't think he is." Dean says. "And he can be lame sometimes. He's still cool, though."

"He can be lame sometimes?" John asks, with amusement.

"Yeah. Like, we're building lego city and he makes stupid things. I makes a motel and a bank and the batmobile but Cas makes a church. So I asks him why and he says its important and then he wouldn't say anything else even though I threw legos at him. And he doesn't know who Batman is."

"Huh. You know, when I was young, my imaginary friend was dead." John replies.

Dean thinks about it for a few seconds, before racing off outside, yelling. He seems to have forgotten completely that they were leaving the motel. Sighing, John gets Sammy in the car. "Caaas, are you dead?"

Maybe five minutes late, his son is back, looking relieved.

"Cas isn't dead." He reports proudly to his father. "He said so himself."

John nods, hoping to settle the discussion at that and get Dean in the car. Dean doesn't seem to notice though, because he keeps talking.

"Cas can't die." The small boy explains.

That's enough to make John feel alarmed. "What do you mean, Cas can't die?"

"It's kinda because Cas is angel." Dean explains, sounding like he is talking to a little kid. John picks up their duffels and steers his older sun towards the car. "There's a whole bunch of 'em, really, more than you'd think. There's Cassie… Cassitel… Cassa- something, that's Cas. His younger brother is named Sam, too, but its Sam-Amand-y, so maybe his younger brother is a girl. And he has other brothers, too, but I can't remember any of 'em."

"You have one heck of an imagination, son,"


	3. Chapter Three

Though John expects Dean to grow out of it quickly, his son still insists that Cas is real years later. Sam, who goes along with his brother on everything, also starts to talk about his brothers imaginary friend. John expects power struggles ("No- Cas doesn't like Superman, Sammy, jeez!") but is once again proven wrong as both the boys seem to agree on details about the game before telling him anything.

It's funny how codependent his boys are. Sometimes John wonders if Dean only says that Cas is real for Sammy's sake now. But in that case, he does such a very good job of pretending.

"Something about the entire act makes me feel paranoid," John admits to Bobby after a half hour of calming Dean down after Cas apparently refused to help him with his homework. "The boy's in first grade now. You sure there can't be anything… different involved here?"

No need to scare Dean or Sammy by mentioning monsters.

"It takes more than two little boys to create a tulpa." Bobby shrugs, before adding with accusation, "Your son is just lonely."

Dean looks up from his legos, green eyes wide. "I know what you're talking about. But Cas's real. He's my guardian angel."

"No such thing," Bobby says dismissively.

"Yes, there is!" Dean is becoming increasingly frustrated. "And his name is Castiel and he has blue eyes and black hair and kickass wings and he is my best friend!"

"Alright, alright." Bobby surrenders raises his arms in a calming gesture. He seems to have decided to go along with what Dean says, at least for now. "Cas can be real, if you want him to be. Okay?"

John doesn't like the change in his son's attitude. When did his perfect little soldier become belligerent about _anything_?

"Okay." Dean is still pouting as he tromps upstairs (John expects to hear him 'talking to Cas' about how his dad gets nothing').

"You see what I mean, don't you? Most children know that their imaginary friends aren't real, I checked." John sighs. "I think its time we take a look at angel lore."

"Angels ain't real," Bobby says with conviction, "It could be something that says its one."

* * *

Apparently, Castiel is the angel of Thursday. John checks, but Dean was born on a Tuesday, so it doesn't fit. The next breakfast, they question Dean again. Unsuccessfully.

"So," Bobby says almost sweetly, "How's Cas doing?"

"Oh, Cas is good." Dean is using his spoon to draw patterns in his oatmeal.

"Dean, did Cas ever tell you _why_ he's your guardian angel?"

"It's because I'm special." Dean shrugs.

John feels a chill down his spine. "What do you mean, special?"

"Dunno." His sons says innocently.

"Okay. Does, um, Castiel take on a physical form?"

"What?" Dean cocks his head to the side, a curious habit he picked up from God-knows-where.  
"Is he like a person, or like a ghost?"

"Like a person. With kickass wings."

"Okay, wings. Can you describe them?" Bobby asks patiently.

"They're made out of shadows." Dean pauses, closing his eyes as if he's listening to music that only he can hear. "Uncle Bobby, you know Cas is just pretend, right?"

"What?!" Bobby and John exclaim at the same time.

"That's why he's called an _imaginary_ friend."

**A/N: Well, I did say I'd update too frequently... The next chapter is actually going to have Cas and Sammy in it. :) **


	4. Chapter Four

There is an amount of red food coloring dribbling down Cas's chin, but he composes himself with truly angelic dignity.

"Your nose is blue," He points out seriously, waving a hand in the general direction of Dean's face.

"Only way to eat them," Dean replies. He's sharing his snow cone with Sammy, who dropped his in the sand behind Bobby's house. "Where did you get them, anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure Gabriel felt bad for being a total jerk to Balthasar and me yesterday. He should." Cas thinks about it for a moment. "Or maybe they're poisoned and he just pretended to feel bad."

Dean shrugs, "They don't taste poisoned."

Sammy worms his way in between them, hazel eyes wide. "I want Cas's."

"I already gave you half of mine!" Dean protests, but Cas shares his snow cone with Sam without complaint.

"Thank you. Is my tongue red now?" Sammy asks, sticking his tongue. The last time he had inquired about the color of his tongue, he hadn't waited until he was done talking to stick his tongue out, but the kid learned quickly.

"No, it's a purple shade, with an amount of green off to the side." Cas says. "Maybe you should go look in the mirror."  
Apparently, Sammy finds the idea brilliant, because he rushes into the house immediately.

"Okay, Sam is gone. What's wrong?" Dean asks, eyes boring into his friend's face.

"What makes you think something is wrong?!" Castiel asks far too quickly.

"You look like you've been about to cry like, all afternoon. And you've used any excuse to talk to me alone, but then didn't say nothing."

Cas's blue eyes go wide and he looks like he is about to deny it, but sighs instead. Somehow, the angel doesn't look eight years old anymore.

"Dean, you're too old to have an imaginary friend anymore." He blurts out quickly.

"Says who?" Dean sounds hostile.

"Your teacher, in school-" Cas stutters.

"Who cares what some stupid old hag-" Dean interrupts, but doesn't get to finish his sentence.

"And your dad and my brothers and well, everyone-"

"But Cas-"

"No, Dean, listen!"  
"You listen!"

There is a long silence in between the boys, fierce green eyes meeting pleading blue ones.

"I was never really supposed to be friends with you," Cas admits quietly, and now he sounds infinitely younger than eight years old.

"Nobody's supposed to be friends with anyone, Cas, that's not the way it works!"

"No- I mean, you're my charge. I should be trying to...um, protect and guide you…"

"Isn't that what dads are for?" Dean asks, because the idea that someone who is probably not even older than him trying to protect and guide him is ridiculous.

"Dean, please. I can't be your imaginary friend anymore." Castiel turns away, and suddenly he is very, very old again. "Just your guardian angel."

Dean has the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wants to say something, anything to make the his best friend stay, but there's a lump in his throat that won't let him speak.

"It's not like I'm going to be gone," Cas says, although his voice is emotionless and his words aren't convincing. "If your life is in danger or something… I can feel it. If you're hurt or something… or..."

"It's one way, isn't it?" Dean asks. If he could know whether Cas was okay or not, it'd help, but it's his life and his life doesn't work like that.

"Yes."

"That's not fair at all." Dean sounds drained.

"No, its not." Cas doesn't sound like himself at all. "But Anna says that life isn't fair and that being an angel isn't fair… I try not to listen to Anna too much, but she's right, y'know, it's really not…"

He trails off again, chewing his lip. Dean stares at the ground. Cas stares at Dean. Then, seemingly having made a decision, the angel turns and hugs his charge so hard that Sammy (who, of course, is watching the entire thing out of the second story window) hopes that Cas doesn't break his only brother.

Then Dean, who is still staring at the ground, sees the shadows of his best friend's wings extend and the only evidence that Cas was ever there is the remaining warmth where the other boy hugged him and the bittersweet taste of the blue snow cone on his tongue.

"But I was going to show you Batman." He mutters into the empty air, and no one answers, because Dean Winchester is too old for imaginary friends.

* * *

Angels don't cry and Anna said something about that not being fair, either, but Castiel is kind of happy they don't because if they did he would be right now. Making Dean sad was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do and though he's only eight and a half he's had to do a lot of hard things.

But Zachariah had explained that Castiel was never meant to be Dean's friend. Zachariah had explained that that wasn't what guardian angels were for and that if Castiel didn't change he wasn't a very good guardian angel. Zachariah explained that someone could do just as good of a job watching the Winchesters as Castiel. When Zachariah was done explaining, Castiel also was very glad that angels don't cry, even when they're very, very scared. And, after Zachariah was done explaining, Castiel had a new goal.

He was going to be the best guardian angel ever, whatever the price was.


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N: I kind of felt like more action was needed, so this is setting up for the next chapter to have a bit more of that. On another note, I appreciate all the positive feedback I received lately, you guys make me very happy! **

After summer break was long gone and second grade started, Dean hit the second ring on the bullseye and his dad was so proud that he called Uncle Bobby and Caleb to boast. Cas didn't show, of course, but for a couple of seconds Dean had the peculiar feeling that some sort of presence had brushed against his mind, conveying pride. He did his best to feel as angry as possible. Later, Dean had asked his third second grade teacher about how you could tell someone something if you can't talk to them. She had suggested writing a letter.

Which was why he is stretched out on a bed (motel rooms don't normally have desks- at the kinds of motel rooms they usually stay in) chewing the end of his pencil and desperately trying to come up with what to write.

_Dear Cas,_

No, that wouldn't do. Dean erases the words, probably rubbing the page with the eraser much harder than necessary, because there's a tiny hole in the page now.

_Castiel,_

Now what? Even at eight years old, Dean isn't one to be in touch with his feelings. But something simple should do.

_Castiel,_

_I'm really mad at you. So mad that I think I hate your guts. You're the worsest friend ever. It's kinda lonely here since you left cause its just me and Sammy. But you're not welcome back. Because if you wanted me to like you, you shouldn't have left. _

_I'm going to pretend to mail this to you so that you can pretend to get it and then pretend to care._

Dean paused for a few seconds, then added,

_Dean Winchester_

_PS: I hope you're very sad. _

There. Maybe now Cas would hate him enough to come and say so. He doesn't. Come out, that is, because Dean is sure that Castiel must hate him now.

* * *

Over a year later, Dean still remembers every detail of his former best friend: the clear blue eyes, the messy black hair, the ridiculous (for a boy his age) button-down shirt. In another year, he doesn't.

It's only natural for him to forget, and Castiel knows that. And it's completely unfair that he still gets to know everything about his charge, but Dean can't know if Castiel even real. It's all really unfair. Castiel shouldn't think that, though. Anna thought that and she fell.

So that he doesn't have to think, Castiel counts the stars over and over again and when he gets tired of counting stars, he counts Dean's freckles.

It gets lonely sometimes, for both of them. Dean has Sammy, though. Castiel doesn't have anyone, really, not anymore. He used to have Dean, but now Dean hates him. And though he shouldn't, Castiel finds himself wishing Dean would get his life in danger so that Castiel could save him and maybe make all of it right again.

That doesn't happen until Dean is almost fourteen. And Castiel doesn't make anything right, anyway. Actually, he kind of walks into something that's probably too much for him.

But he only realizes that after he is pinned to the wall with an angel blade pressed against his throat.


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N: I couldn't get this chapter right no matter how many times I tried. Can't write fight scenes at all. Sorry! Anyway, I hope it's alright.**

Sam Winchester is important. Probably the most important of Azazel's special children. Sam Winchester is essential to their plans, actually, and they can't take any risks. So after some very careful consideration (there wasn't any hurry, after all) Azazel decides that a guardian angel milling around is unacceptable, because Sam can't be compromised.

Obtaining an Enochian blade is hard, but, really, they're in no hurry. And after that, the mission is easy. Make the guardian angel come out, then kill him. No permanent injuries to Sam Winchester, but killing his older brother is fine, if necessary. Azazel doesn't even need to go himself.

They ambush the Winchesters carefully. As the father leaves for his hunt, salt lines are constructed and wards put up, but a thirteen year old and a nine year old will eventually make some sort of mistake.

The don't have to wait too long. As the boys leave for school one morning, Dean stumbles sleepily and tip of his toe brushes against the salt lines. It's barely broken at all, but it is enough of an opening. Three demons wait for the boys in the motel room when they get back from school and neither Dean nor Sammy has time to even yelp before their pinned to the wall by the demons' telekinesis.

"The hell-" Sammy can't help exclaiming. The demons ignore him.

The one that appears to be the leader is possessing a man in his late forties, with a bald patch in the back of his head and a look that would remind Dean of an old, fat, cartoonish teddy bear if not for the sadistic expression it has been twisted into. The other one is a guy that's probably barely out of high school and a girl the same age. They were probably together somewhere when they were possessed.

"Shouldn't that lure it out?" The one possessing the young man asks the others, which makes no sense to the boys.

"No, I think we'll have to cut one of them a little." The leader replies, drawing what looks four butter knives glued together to Dean, at first. Then, the demon brings it back to the light, and Dean realizes it's a short sword- that looks efficient and very lethal.

"I don't believe that will be necessary," A voice suddenly says from the back of the room. Though young, it is already emotionless, sounding almost like a robot in a sci-fi movie. It's kind of unnerving, actually.

The demons turn all at once and Dean strains to look at whatever had spoken. It's a boy about his age (Dean briefly wonders if he is a classmate), standing tall and kind of proud as he strides into the room. Seriously, he walks like a prince or something. It's ridiculous.

The newcomer comes more clearly into view and now Dean can see that he has dark brown, almost black hair and that he is wearing a crisp, white button down shirt. That feels familiar, somehow, as though it should all add up to the same picture, but it doesn't. He's probably just some poor possessed kid, Dean decides. Maybe Dean saw him in school, or just hit his head against the wall a bit too hard.

"Let them go." The newcomer demands, sounding as if he has practiced saying that twenty times every day.

"Or what?" The demon that seems to be the leader snarls in his direction.

"Um, or I'll kill you….?"

Though he has no idea what's going on, Dean is grateful for the distraction. He starts to mutter an exorcism, but one of the demons flicks their wrist without even turning and something is clamped over his mouth, rendering him unable to speak.

"And how do plan to accomplish that, little angel?" He hears the one that is possessing the girl sneer, in reply to the other boy's last comment.

"Pardon?" The latter cocks his head to the side, looking he is trying to figure out a trick question on an exam. He might be good at dramatic walking and kind of cliche requests, but he didn't seem to get snarky comebacks.

"You're not exactly at a strategical advantage here," The demon points out. The short sword glints in his hand.

Dean thinks that the kid looks like he sees their point, but that's before his shoe collidea with the girl demon's face, knocking her -it- to the ground. It happens a bit too quickly for Dean to keep up, but suddenly his hand is on the forehead of its vessel and theres a freaky sort of light coming out of her eyes and the vessel crumbles to the ground, apparently dead. The force that's pinning Dean to the wall loosens a little.

The other two demons advance and the one that's probably not a demon backs away, hands rolled into fists. He's obviously looking for an opening, and obviously wary of the sword thing that demon is holding. Dean glances at his brother, forming the sign for "when I count to three" with his hand. Sam nods, and his older brother watches intently at the fight continues, waiting for the opportunity to try and run.

The kid in the button down shirt repeats the move that he used on the first demon, managing to take the young man demon down. Bad strategy- though the henchmen are gone, he is cornered now, and the old guy demon shoves him into the wall. The kid must be way lighter than he appears, Dean decides. No one is paying attention to him or Sammy anymore and the wright pinning them to the wall is almost nonexistent. This would be the best time to run for it, but, dammit, Sammy is too captivated by the fight to notice. Which is very bad, because Dean can see that the demon is going to win anytime now; the blade is pressed tightly against its opponent's throat (the kid would be dead by now, but demons do enjoy to play with their food).

"Azazel says hello," The demon smirks.

"He's… a… an assbutt, thats what he is…"

The demon sighs, like he is disappointed, and grabs his victim by the collar, aiming the sword at his throat. At that point, however, a gunshot rings out right behind him, and a few red dots materialize where Dean's bullets hit him.

Rock salt. "Take that, you little-"  
Dean doesn't have time to finish his sentence before someone punches his temple and he's knocked out cold. Friggin demons.


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/n: Guess who isn't dead? Sorry about the super short super late update- exam week happened.**

"Dean? Dean, are you alright? Dean!" Someone who isn't Sammy or Dad is shaking his shoulders. They sound worried.

"Mhmmm." Dean manages. "Uh'm fide."

"Okay, um, that's good, being fine is good, unless you're lying, in which case it isn't… I mean being fine would be, but if you're lying then you're not fine, and if you are not fine then it isn't good-" The person's rambling gives away exactly how worried they'd been about Dean. Dean can't remember exactly how he'd gotten knocked out, which probably is a bad thing. "-but I can't actually heal at the moment, I used up too much of my power on the demons and I'm an idiot… could've killed all of us…"

Demons. Right, yes, something about demons.

"Sammy?!" Dean exclaims, attempting to sit up only to be lightly pushed back down.

"Your brother is alright- should be alright, at least, I have no idea where he is, but you should, I heard you tell him to get out of the motel room and call your dad, and I know you should have agreed on a place to go to in case of emergency." That is all said in one breath. Even before Dean can ask, he adds, "No, I don't know where that is, don't worry."

Dean Winchester isn't one for trusting strangers, though, especially strangers that don't seem to be human. As much as he wants to just lay back and let someone else take care of whatever had happened, that is not an option. He sits up this time, shoving away the stranger away. Concerned blue eyes peer down at him and he once again feels like he should know the stranger.

"And who the hell are you supposed to be?" Dean wonders.

"What?!" He sees hurt in the new guy's eyes, but doesn't care and presses forward.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Oh- of course-… uh-" The guy lets his voice drift off, pausing. Dean can almost hear the gears turn in his head as his expression changes from hurt to careful, guarded, emotionless. "I am Castiel."


	8. Chapter Eight

"No, you're really not. " Dean meets the stranger's eyes, squinting slightly and frowning in disbelief. They're blue, and kind of too saturated somehow, like there's just too much behind them to comprehend. Too blue. Now that he thinks about it, the guy is pretty much exactly like what he thinks he remembers his imaginary best friend was like. Or what he imagined Cas was like, because Cas was never actually real.

"What? No, Dean, I am. Of course I am."

"I don't know how you know about my imaginary bes...- um, my imaginary friend, and I don't actually care. You kicked the demons' asses, thanks for that, I guess, but I don't trust you. Go away this second and maybe Dad won't hunt you down and kill you."

Cas (because, for lack of better name, Dean was calling him that) stiffened. His expression didn't change, but Dean could see that he was getting under the other boy's skin.

"I highly doubt father can kill me, Dean." He says, apparently deciding that's the safest response. Dean decides he can't blame him for skirting the topic of his identity.

"Yes he can. He just needs to use the knife-y thing, right? That's why you were so scared of it!"

Castiel's blue eyes open a fraction wider, but that is the only trace of surprise on his face.

"That's very perceptive, Dean, but where would he get the blade?" Cas holds up the knife. Dean thinks he looks kind of smug, but maybe that's just him.

Dean backs away, putting the bed and tiny motel bedside table in between him and the armed stranger that's crazy enough to claim that he is an imaginary friend Dean had as a kid.

Castiel sighs. "You really don't trust me, do you? Listen, Dean, you wrote me a letter, a few years back. Something along the lines of 'I hate you, please don't come back,' and you used your full name to sign it."  
That's a weird detail that no one should know, and Dean backs away slightly. He can see that the Cas imposter is trying to gain his trust, but that was a terrible way to go about it. Now Dean has to figure out exactly how he's been spying on the Winchesters for so long. Not to mention decipher his conversation with the demons. That was confusing, to say the least.

So Dean slams the motel room door shut, but not before shooting a couple of times in Cas's general direction (he's a good shot, but he doesn't bother to aim, as this is only a warning). Dean runs down the stair, and after making sure that no one is following him, following him, goes to find Sammy. They don't go back to the motel room until they call their dad and he gets there, because they aren't stupid.

By that point, everything but the bodies of the demons (two with their eyes burned out, one stabbed through the heart) and the smell of sulfur.

Dad makes him recount the entire incident yet again, and Dean suddenly feels extremely bad pulling his dad away from a probably very important hunt. Dad isn't mad though, and Dean wonders why.

"Did you get a good look at the blade?" He demands instead, which catches Dean of guard.

"Yes sir, I think so."

"Can you describe it to me?"  
Bit obsessive, Dean thinks, but whatever. "It wasn't that long, maybe a bit shorter than the distance from my palm to my elbow. I don't think it was silver, but it could've been, it was the same color."

"And it had four sides instead of two," Sammy puts in. "Kinda rhombus shaped."

He draws the figure in the air with his fingers.

"Yes, I can see that." Dad snaps, pointing at the mark on the body. Dean remembers that they were fighting earlier, and Dad's still mad at Sammy, apparently.

"Um, right, it wasn't like anything I've seen before." Dean finishes lamely, not wanting to see his family fight again.

"And it killed the demon? _Killed_ the demon, permanently?"

"I don't know, Dad. I told you I got clocked over the head, and by the time I came around, it was too late."

His father nods, apparently satisfied, and Dean notices a strange glint in his eyes, a manic one. He isn't sure why it is there, but he thinks he has an idea. An idea that kind of freaks him out to be frank, even if he will never admit it.


End file.
